


Midnights that Fall Apart at Dawn

by readergrl56



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readergrl56/pseuds/readergrl56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt receives an unexpected phone call in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnights that Fall Apart at Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Please Note: There are issues of consent in this fic. There is no violence, but there's also no fully expressed consent between both parties. 
> 
> Also, I haven't been able to watch Season 2 yet, so this is post-Season 1 compliant.

_Foggy, Foggy, Foggy, Foggy._

Matt groans, the sudden jolt into wakefulness already throbbing against the front of his skull.

The voice assistance goes quiet for a second, then starts up again, loudly and insistently.

Matt reaches over to his bedside table and picks up his phone.

“Hello?” he says, barely managing a whisper. His voice still had yet to recover from a new foe who was quite adept at making people scream themselves hoarse.

“Hey, baby,” Foggy says, “what’re you doing right now?”

Matt sits up, trying to clear away the remnants of his nap.

_Baby?_

Fabric shifts on the other end of the line.

“I miss you,” Foggy says. “I know you don’t really like it when I’m needy, but, god, do I need you right now. I want you here, with me.”

Matt sits, speechless. He suddenly feels trapped by the lone sheet that covers his bed.

“I want your lips,” Foggy says. “I can feel them already, pressing against mine. I want to lick them and bite them, make them plump until they taste only of me.”

Matt lets out a sigh. Foggy laughs.

“You not going to talk to me tonight?” he asks. “That’s alright. You always said I could prattle on enough for three people.”

There’s the soft plop of the phone settling onto Foggy’s pillow, then a harder tap of Foggy’s fingers on the screen.

“This is much comfier,” Foggy says, voice distant through the speakerphone. “It gives me much better access to certain parts of my body. Your favorite part, in fact.”

Matt scratches an old scar, low on his abdomen.

“Well,” Foggy says, “I guess it’s probably your second or third favorite part. You’ve always said my mouth and fingers were much more _versatile_.”

Matt squeezes his eyes. He shouldn’t do this.

“It’s hot tonight. Almost as hot as you,” Foggy says, then chuckles. “Sorry, babe, couldn’t resist. You know how I am.”

Sweat dampens the juncture of Matt’s thighs. He plays with the first row of curls that peek over his boxers’ waistband.

“I bet you’re feeling it too,” Foggy says, “despite that fancy apartment of yours with its new-fangled thing called ‘air-conditioning.’ Bet you’re all sweaty. I bet it’s getting worse the longer I talk, isn’t it? Your body’s slicking itself up, thinking about me between your thighs.”

Matt’s breath catches on a rasp. He coughs in an attempt to fix it.

“I want to lick it off you,” Foggy says, “I want to taste the saltiness of your skin, like the best goddamn delicacy money can buy. I’ve always liked the way you look when you sweat. Every time I see you like that, I just can’t wait until I can peel off your clothes and get my tongue on you.”

_Fuck it,_ Matt thinks. He kicks the sheet to the foot of his bed and pushes his boxers down his thighs, struggling when the elastic gets stuck around his ankle.

“You alright, babe?” Foggy asks. There’s some shuffling, after which his voice becomes much louder. “Sounds like you’re having a bit of a hard time over there. Oh! See what I did there? _Hard._ God, I crack myself up.”

Matt finally extricates himself and tosses the boxers to the floor. Air brushes against the underside of his balls.

“Still with me?” Foggy asks. “Ok. I’m going to take your complete and utter silence as an obvious ‘yes’ and continue on with our previously-scheduled program.”

Matt settles himself against his bed and reaches into his nightstand for some lubricant.

“What’re you thinking about right now?” Foggy asks. “Besides my giant, completely magnificent cock, of course.”

The lube slides down Matt’s palm. He hastens to coat his cock with it.

“You know what _I’m_ thinking about?” Foggy says. “I’m thinking about trailing my fingers over your skin until you can’t fucking stand it anymore, until you demand that I do something useful with them.”

Matt wraps his hand around his cock, hips jerking at the touch.

“What I wouldn’t give to have your lips brushing against my ear right now, ordering me to fuck you,” Foggy says. “God, Marci, I love your voice when you take charge. It’s just so goddamn sexy.”

Matt stops.

_Marci._

Of course. This call wasn’t meant for him. It was meant for _her_ , just one name above Matt’s on Foggy’s contact list.

The lube is tacky against his skin. A drop works its way down towards his balls, leaving a cold path along his cock.

Matt reaches for the sheet bunched at the foot of his bed. The fabric feels particularly rough as he wipes the lube off his cock.

“Babe? Hey, you still there?” Foggy says.

Matt sighs. He should just hang up, let Foggy wonder what suddenly happened to his booty call. It’d be better than revealing the truth and humiliating both of them.

“Look,” Foggy says, “I know we’re playing this sexy little game of ‘Foggy talks to nothingness and hopes there’s another person on the other side of the line’ tonight, but just, like, a whistle or a tap against your phone to let me know you’re still alive would be nice.”

Matt rubs his temple. Then, he taps the speaker on the bottom of his phone.

“Success!” Foggy says. “You had me worried there. Good to know all parties are present and accounted for. Would’ve make everything a little bit more pathetic if this had ended up as a tired, little attorney talking to himself while jerking off.”

Matt hears Foggy settling back against his pillows, and does the same. He should be trying to locate his boxers, but the bed feels nice and firm under him.

“Now, where were we?” Foggy says. “Oh, yes. I was just talking about doing a very _thorough_ inspection of your body.”

Despite his realization, Matt’s erection hasn’t completely subsided. Foggy’s tone sends a new shiver down his spine.

“I want to see your nipples,” Foggy says, and laughs. “God, that’s definitely not the sexiest way to put that, but I really don’t care. It’s like they were created special just to make me so fucking horny.”

Matt swipes his own thumb over his chest, rubbing small circles along the edge of his pectoral muscles. He forces himself not to move his hands up any further.

“I love the way they harden, just for me,” Foggy says. “Every time I get my mouth on one and feel how it gets stiff under my tongue, it’s just like passing the bar all over again.

Matt gives in.

He wets his thumbs with his tongue and brushes them across his nipples, whining at the sensation. He wets his thumbs even more and rotates them over his nipples, varying the pressure as he rubs.

“Oh, yeah,” Foggy says. His voice is rougher than before. “You know, every time I see you, you’re wearing those tight little shirts. They’re such a tease, making me want to just rip them off you and give your chest the attention it deserves.”

Matt pinches his nipple, imagining Foggy shoving him against his desk and biting him through his shirt.

“Once we’re done there,” Foggy says, “I’d move down towards the real prize.”

One of Matt’s hands drifts towards his hip.

“I bet you’re wet for me right now,” Foggy says. “If I was there, I’d probably be able to reach down and get my fingers completely soaked without even needing to push them into you. That’s how wet you’d be, absolutely dripping with it.”

Matt strokes a finger over his dry hole. The muscle gives with a little bit of pressure, but Matt stops before he can insert the tip of his finger.

“I want you to open yourself up for me,” Foggy says. “Pretend I’m there, that I’m getting ready to press into you. Stretch yourself.”

Matt locates the bottle of lubricant and squeezes a dollop onto his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” Foggy says, “Feel how wet you are for me.”

Matt spreads the lube over his fingers and moves them behind his balls. A wet tip brushes against his rim and the muscle clenches.

“Push them in,” Foggy says. “Push them in until you feel stuffed full of me.”

Matt pushes his index finger in with a little bit of pressure. It slips in to the second knuckle, and the foreign sensation causes Matt to involuntarily tighten around the finger.

Foggy doesn’t say anything, but Matt can hear him breathing heavily through the phone.

Matt pulls his finger out and replaces it with his middle finger, adding a bit more lube beforehand. The longer digit allows him to rub himself from a new angle. He pushes up even further and finds his prostate. He circles the little gland, sending a deliciously deep pleasure throughout his lower body.

“I want you to get two fingers in yourself,” Foggy says. “I want you to pretend they’re my cock, pushing deep inside you. Do you still have that dildo from last time? I wish I could see you fucking yourself on it, watch how deep it goes. But, it’s not enough, is it? It’s never enough, because I’m not there.”

Matt pushes his index finger in next to his middle finger. He goes a little too fast; his rim burns with the stretch, but the pain adds a nice, sharp contrast to the growing thrum of arousal.

“If only I could taste you,” Foggy says, “get my tongue in you. I would spend _hours_ coaxing every drop from your cunt until you’re loose, until my cock was the only thing that could make you feel full again.”

Matt pulls his fingers out and grabs the bottle of lube, squirting some onto his other hand. He wraps his hand around his cock and twists up. His ass tightens, clenching around nothing. He pushes his fingers back in to give himself something to squeeze onto.

“Do you feel me?” Foggy says. “Do you feel me fucking you? Because, god, I can feel how good you are around me, how you’re squeezing me like you can’t get enough.”

Matt spreads his legs wider, working his fingers deeper into his body. He moves them in sync with the hand on his cock.

“Christ, you’re amazing,” Foggy says. “So fucking perfect. I love watching you, seeing how you look when I’m in you. You’re so sexy, so goddamn sexy.”

His thigh muscles feel taunt, burning with the stretch of keeping his legs open. There’s a cramp about to start near his hip, but Matt doesn’t move his legs any closer together. Pre-cum mixes with the lube on his cock, diluting the synthetic feel that oozes into the cracks between his fingers.

“Are you close, babe?” Foggy asks. “Because, god, I’m pretty fucking close, and I want to make sure, you know, _fuck_.”

His voice breaks off, and there’s no sound from the other end of the line. Matt can’t even hear Foggy breathe.

Finally, Foggy moves. His heel scrapes against his sheet. His breath first comes out in a little puff, then all at once in a long groan.

Foggy’s head hits his pillow, and his breathing becomes more controlled, more even.

His skin would be wet by now, perspiration gathered in the folds of his body. His cum running over his knuckles and pooling in the sparse hair on his belly. Matt imagines the warmth of Foggy’s groin, nestled against his back. He would reach over Matt, arm floppy with the sudden fatigue.

His chest sticks to Matt’s back, and his hair pokes at Matt’s cheek, but neither of them would pay that any attention. He presses his cock to Matt’s ass, like there’s no question of where it belongs, even when limp.

Matt twists his hand up his cock and pushes his fingers in as deep as he can.

His muscles tighten.

_Yes,_ he thinks, and lets himself sink into the feeling.

When he comes down from the rush of endorphins, he hears Foggy’s voice drifting through the phone’s speaker. It’s something to do with setting up lunch plans.

Lunch plans with _Marci_ , Matt reminds himself.

“Thanks for putting up with my chatter tonight, babe,” Foggy says. “Next time, we do this in person, and I promise to be _quite_ the man of my words.”

Matt lies on his mattress, sweat and cum cooling on his chest.

“Goodnight, babe,” Foggy says, and ends the call.

“Goodnight,” Matt says, and sets his phone back on his bedside table.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to my lovely beta cloudsofsmoke for editing and commenting on my fic, including bringing my attention to the consent issues. Feedback is appreciated. I can also be contacted via Tumblr.


End file.
